


To Be Free

by jaloulia



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Adventure, BFFs, Child Abuse, Coming of Age, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Original Character(s), Past Child Abuse, Romance, friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaloulia/pseuds/jaloulia
Summary: If there was a fifth in the kiara, john B, JJ, and pope friend group and if he was quite the opposite breed... at least on the surface.---And last but not least we have Bohdi Michael Landon Munford. Now I know what your thinking with that long ass fancy name there’s no way this guy a pogue and you’d be right. Bohdi lives with his rich government official aunt we all kinda hate her though Bohdi most of all so when he’s not being forced into cotton candy blue suits and pink polos for banquets and golfing tournaments he’s with us, been that way since sixth grade. And no matter how good he is at golf or how expensive his shoes are he’s a pogue at heart and that’s good enough for us.
Relationships: Kiara/OC (Outer Banks)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. chapter one - a few stupid yet amazing friends

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! this is my first time ever publishing something on here or any website, so I hope you enjoy it. I was inspired to write this because so far, I've seen a ton of fanfics with an original female character integrated into the story either as a love interest for JJ or John B, but I've yet to see a male OC. So Bohdi Munford was born. Plus, I wanted to create a love interest for Kie that wasn't one of the other boys as I think the idea of a girl having boys that are solely just friends is so important in fiction as it is rarely featured.
> 
> anyways that's all I have to say, for now, please read and comment. I'd love to hear what you guys all think, feel free to leave any constructive critiques :)  
> \---  
> disclaimer: obviously, I do not own the tv show outer banks or any of the characters, and this fic is solely for fun. the only character that is mine is Bohdi. :)

Bohdi’s POV  
Sitting on the deck of an unfinished condo with my friends has grown to be one of my favorite past times. There’s nothing quite as calming and humbling as gazing out over an expanse of dark blue water and watching as the foggy sun makes it’s way over the horizon. I look up as some seagulls pass overhead. Sighing, I wonder what it would be like to fly. They seem so free and oblivious. I’ve spent many sleepless nights wondering what it would like to be oblivious to my surroundings, but thankfully I have a few stupid yet amazing friends that make being aware more appealing—speaking of which my gaze shifts from the birds in the sky to John B’s foot dangling off the point of the roof. He’s balancing up there a half-finished can of beer JJ stole from his dad this morning gripped in his hand.  
My fingers fidget with one of the many friendship bracelets tied around my wrists. Not out of nervousness, just to bring me back to the present and out of my head.  
“That’s what,” Pope speaks up, “A three-story fall to the deck?” He’s clutching a power drill and squints up at their stupidly fearless friend. “I give you about a one in three chance of survival.” Pope jokes.  
I can’t help but smirk. Pope’s way smarter than that he probably could have mouthed out a full three-point zero divided by five point six point seven type statistic or some shit like that.  
Pope is a genius, in my opinion, or maybe it just feels like that to me because I’ve never gotten above a C grade. Something my Harvard graduate of an aunt I’ve been living with nearly my whole life, since my parents ran off to Mexico or somewhere, often likes to remind me. With that thought, I angrily chucked my beer can off the deck and glanced behind me just to make sure Kie wasn’t there to yell at me. She’s super into the environment or something. I don’t know. I mean, one can couldn’t hurt. I can already hear the long lecture that would come from her if I made a comment like that out loud.  
“I’m telling Kie, Bohdi,” JJ comments with a sly smile from where he’s perched on some scaffolding.  
“Go ahead JJ, I’ll tell her about the slug you stepped on the other day.” I squinted up at my blonde-haired and smudgy friend, sending a sly smile of my own. JJ responds with a short laugh and chucks a can at me.  
I hop to my feet and dust the back of my shorts off. John B is waving his pointer finger around in the air pretending to test the wind. “Hm, should I do it?” He hollers down.  
“Yeah, you should jump,” Pope jokes and aims the drill gun at John B, “I’ll shoot you on the way down.”  
“Ha!” I laugh and point a finger at Pope, “you, my friend, can not aim for shit.”  
“Oh yeah, maybe I’ll shoot you instead.” Pope smiles and aims his improvised weapon at me. I aim my own finger guns at him.  
“You wanna go?” I blow imaginary smoke from my pointer finger.  
“Oh yeah, Pope better watch out,” John B then stands up straight and adjusts an imaginary bow tie, “You’re talking to the winner of the 2017 figure-eight archery championships.”  
“Oh my god, “I groan. They are never going to let me live that down. Freshman year, I had been forced to partake in archery lessons, and the whole gang poked fun at me all year calling archery the kookiest of kook sports right up there with scuba diving and golfing. It was fine with me, though. I joined in on most of the jokes considering I hated the lessons, and the humor helped me feel more normal and less like a puppet forced to participate in activities I despised. I shivered despite the warm temperature.  
“They’re going to have Japanese toilets with towel warmers.” Kie’s voice could be heard as she emerged from the condo onto the deck.  
“Of course they are. why wouldn’t they?” JJ spoke with sarcastic nonchalance and shrugged down to me. I shrugged back, which earned me a shove as Kie walked past. The place where her hand had touched my shoulder tingled, sending butterflies up my throat. Mentally I groaned knowing feelings like that were going to fuck up our friendship one of these days.  
“This used to be a turtle habitat,” she rolled her eyes, “but who cares about the turtles, I guess?”  
“I can’t have cold towels,” JJ called down a giant smile on his face illuminating his dimples.  
Kie ignored his sarcastic remark and looked up at where John B still stood precariously balanced on the roof. “Can you please not kill yourself?” For some reason, her concern for him sent a flash of jealousy across my brain. I internally scolded myself. One of the top three pogue rules was no pogue on pogue macking. Still, a tiny crush on Kie had persevered all the way from its origin in fifth grade. It was all over for me before I even knew her, when Kie had been running about the playground offering her unwanted carrot stick to everyone. I’d taken them from her and she had thanked me with such relief and joy as she hated carrots, and with that, my little ten-year-old heart was hopelessly in love with her.  
I’ve tried to shake the feeling all these years, and it’s definitely weakened from when I was a confused and vulnerable adolescent, but it’s still there and dammit if I don’t really want it to go away.  
“Don’t spill that beer!” JJ yelled up at John B, “I’m not giving you another one.” He warned, taking a chug from his own.  
“Here, drop it down to me, I finished mine.” I joked. John B pretended to get ready to toss it to me and then, of course, because although John B was relatively fearless, he was also infamously clumsy, the can slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the ground.  
“Oh shit.” John B grumbled.  
“Of course, you did like right when I told you,” JJ spoke up exasperated.  
“Smooth.” Kie rolled her eyes.  
“A-plus,” Pope added.  
“You’re a dumbass.” I laughed.  
“You were supposed to catch that dude.” John B spoke to me in a matter of fact tone.  
“Oh yeah, right, that was your plan all along, huh” Kie feigned, understanding as she nodded between the two boys.  
“Hey, uh,” Pope turned to face us from where he peered over the railing, “security’s here. Let’s wrap it up” There was a small hint of nervousness in his voice. For the number of illegal activities that Pope engaged in with the crew, he sure was afraid of being caught by the officials. Couldn’t blame him really, he was all lined up for some major scholarship. I felt bad sometimes almost like we were pulling him back from greatness. I could relate it was my dream to get out of here, far away from controlling aunts and overbearing stereotypes.  
“Man, already?” I grabbed my hoodie from where it hung on a plank and threw it on.  
“Boy’s are early today.” John B remarked  
“Humpty Dumpty lets roll,” JJ called to John as they scampered down from their perches.  
“Let’s go, boys,” Kie smirks mischievously at me, and a dopey grin spreads across my face.  
“Your wish is my command, madam.” I step out of the way and bow deeply, gesturing for her to go ahead.  
“C’mon enough of the kook shit.” JJ laughs and grabs my shoulder causing me to stumble after him.  
All five of us dart down the stairs making a crap ton of noise with JJ and his typical yipping and hollering hoots, coupled with Kie infectious laughter, not to mention John B’s unbearably loud footfalls. The guy walked like an elephant.  
“Hey, stop!” The security guard is right in front of us as we emerge downstairs.  
“Woah, woah!” I yell as we all dart and scatter. He can’t catch all five of us. JJ and Pope go one way while I, Kie, and John B sprint off towards the van. I can't help but laugh wildly as I hear JJ taunting the guards behind us.  
We skid to a stop once we reach John B’s old junker van. John B dashes around to the drivers side, slapping the trunk of the Volkswagon as he went, and Kie and I tumble into the back. She reached to slam the sliding door shut, but I stopped her.  
“Wait, no, no,” I spoke breathlessly as the vehicle lurched to a start. “It’ll be easier for JJ and Pope to jump in this way.”  
“Okay, okay, fine.” She declared, but there was a laugh behind her words, and she followed them with a dazzling smile. As we bumped out on to the main road, my eyes stay trained on Kie and her bright smile.  
But the thing with Kie is it’s not just the smile.  
Light and joy just surround her. It’s almost as if she is the sun itself, and I rely on her warmth to thrive. I often feel myself mentally grasping at her bright aura, trying to steal some of it for myself. I wonder what my aura looks like.  
Certainly not like Kie’s.  
No.  
Kie is the sun, and I’m a fallen leaf lost in the shade of a tree.  
“Come on, boys!” I’m drawn away from my wandering thoughts at Kie’s voice hollering out to JJ and Pope running for the van. Funny. I hadn’t even noticed they were approaching. It’s crazy how my mind sometimes drifts, primarily if I’m not otherwise occupied. That’s why I like to keep moving; it keeps my stupid brian grounded and focused on what’s in front of me. Pope thinks I have ADHD.  
I think I'm just a dumb spaz.  
At least that's what I've been told since I was five so why wouldn't I believe it  
JJ and Pope tumble into the van, and I move upfront into the passenger seat of the van to leave room in the back.  
“Check out Gary gunning for a raise.“ Pope laughs, and I glance in the side view mirror to indeed see one of the security guards we’d lovingly deemed Gary without actually knowing his name, chasing after our van. I snorted at the absurdity of it.  
“What’s he gonna do ride the bumper?” I chuckle, “man, he doesn’t just need a raise, he needs to a new job.”  
“Come on, Gary!” JJ taunts, hanging out the side of the van, “Wait, slow down, slow down.” He waves his hand at John B. John smiles gleefully, high on the excitement.  
“Guys, stop!” Kie protests, but still there’s that laugh behind her words, “you’re gonna give him a heart attack.”  
“You’re so close. You can do it!” JJ hurls mock encouragements at the poor man and then tosses his empty beer can at him. “They don’t pay you enough, bro!” JJ sighs.  
I quickly slam the sunroof in the front seat open and stand up. The wind blows my dark hair back and soothes my red face, sweaty from the chase and heat. A sense of peace mixed with adrenaline rushes through my body.  
“Gary, Gary!” I call from the sunroof, leaning my arms on the roof of the rusting van, “from the bottom of my loving heart just quit and retire.” Kie laughs and then groans.  
“Guys, stop.” I lower myself back into my seat to see her giving JJ a scolding glare, “Stop. “She points at me this time, and even though she’s trying to be serious, her glowing aura is brighter than ever, and I’m not scared of her scolding.  
In fact, I welcome it.  
Anything just to be in the presence of her warm and persistent self.


	2. chapter 2 - famous home-cooked recipe of lucky charms and milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: this one's a bit shorter but I hope you enjoy! please read and comment if you want. I'd love to hear what you guys all think :) feel free to leave any constructive critiques.

Bohdi's POV

I woke up the next morning squished on the old couch placed on John B's covered porch, my neck at an uncomfortable angle, and Pope's feet in my face. I shoved them out of the way, and he groaned in protest from his position on the couch that looked equally uncomfortable.

"I'm calling the couch to myself tonight," I grumbled, standing up and swaying with sleepiness. Pope mumbled something indistinguishable and stretched his body out more comfortably with all the newly available space on the couch. Maybe some guys would have felt awkward falling asleep on the same small couch as their best friend, who was also a guy, but he didn't mind. They had all decided years ago that there were no secrets kept between them and that there was no shame or embarrassment ever to be felt between them. This pact, of course, resulted in lots of stories and situations that would have never been shared with just any regular friend. So sharing a cramped couch with Pope was one of the least awkward situations they'd been a part of together.

My stomach grumbled at me, reminding me to eat. Sometimes I forgot. John B always remarked on what a strange habit that was for 'a growing young man.' He would always say it in a mocking motherly tone in typical John B fashion.

Speaking of the legend himself, John B strolled out on to the deck. "Hey, Bo." He shook his light brown locks out and slapped Pope's outreached hand with a high five. "Careful JJ has a girl in the bedroom." John B pulled his mouth into an amused grimace at his own statement and shot his signature finger guns at me.

"Thanks for the heads up." I chuckled, and he hopped down the porch steps. As extraverted as John B seemed, he appreciated his alone time, especially in the mornings, so I didn't follow him. Instead, I approached the front door and jumped to grip the frame and swing myself in. Kie was sat up on the pull out couch inside, scrolling through her phone and rolled her eyes at me as I landed back on the creaky floorboards.

"Seriously, are you stuck in ninth grade?" She shook her head at my antics, and a smile danced on her lips. Her long curls frizzed out around her head as they always did in the morning. I noted that it looked close to an angelic halo, and I couldn't help but grin at the thought of Kie as an angel. She would make a great one. Maybe she already was one. No, I decided. She drank way too much beer and cursed far too many people out when she drove to be an angel.

"What are you looking at?" I inquired and plopped down on my stomach beside her. Her eyes focused back on her screen.

"There's a hurricane coming." Concern knitted through her eyebrows, "It's supposed to be a pretty bad one."

"Shit," I grumbled and turned myself around to sit up next to her. I sighed and began picking at a blue friendship bracelet made by JJ, tied around my wrist. His attitude of 'I'd rather be doing anything else' when he had been making it shined through in the quality of the thread bracelet. It was already fraying and thinning. Or maybe that was from my picking at it.

"What?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I should go back home to get some stuff. " As much as I dreaded having to go back to my Aunt Mona's large and cold mansion and in turn going home to my hateful Aunt Mona, I was running low on clothes packed at the chateau, and if there was going to be a hurricane, I wanted to plan on staying here for a while, which was far more appealing than being stuck with Mona.

Kie looked over to me and frowned. She knew how much I hated my aunt. They all knew, and once they knew why, we all decided to hate her collectively.

When I first met the crew in sixth grade it was painfully obvious I didn't like her and didn't like to be around her and for the first month, or so I'm pretty sure they all thought I was a silly little brat who hated her because she made me put my dish in the sink or something a stuck up kook kid would find stupid. But I'm not a brat. I have my reasons.

After I showed up to fish one day with a cut and bruised cheek and fingernail scratches all up my arm, they figured it out. My aunt is a fucking abusive woman. Pretty sure it' why her husband, my uncle Greer and the only living relative I had that I actually liked, left her seven years ago. I was nine. I just woke up one-day, and Mona coldly declared he was gone when I asked why he wasn't at breakfast. From that day on, her anger was solely focused on me.

I'm older now, taller than her, bigger than her, and I still feel as small and insignificant as a bug when she looks at me. Probably because her abuse tended to be verbal and emotional as well as physical, it's hard to get the one person who is supposed to love, care and protect you announcing they wished you were dead, and telling you that you're useless and stupid more times than you can count out of your head. Those things are ingrained in me, and I hate her because of that.

"Do you want me to come? Kie asked genuine concern in her tone. But I have a feeling she already knows the answer to that question. She never stops asking, even though I always give her the same response.

"No, I'm fine." I recite the line I've perfected over the years and stand up preparing to head out.

"Maybe one of the guys could go with you." She suggests and stands as well.

"I said I'm fine. "I immediately regret the bitter tone in my voice, but Kie doesn't flinch. She doesn't scream at me or hit me. She just stares at me with those deep soulful eyes that scream 'i care.' "Really, it's okay. "I try to assure her in a softer tone, "I'm just going to run in and out."

"Okay," she sighs, "I'll have my famous home-cooked recipe of lucky charms and milk waiting for you when you get back. "She smiles playfully lighting up the room and reaches for an open box of cereal on the coffee table.

"Oh, joy." I laugh and wrap her in a hug as I'm leaving. She hugs me back, her arms twisted around my waist, and I feel safe.

I feel home.

I don't want to leave.

'Please never leave me' the thought flashed across my brain as I release Kie hoping some of her aurae has rubbed off on me.


	3. chapter 3 - god, I hate this room, and it’s stupid floors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: this chapter does contain physical abuse of a minor  
> \---  
> this chapter is solely Bohdi-centric but don't worry, the gang will be back next chapter. I just found it fitting to give you a look into Bohdi's life without his friends.  
> \---  
> please read, leave kudos and comment if you want. I'd love to hear what you guys all think, feel free to leave any constructive critiques.  
> \---  
> disclaimer: obviously, I do not own the tv show outer banks or any of the characters, and this fic is solely for fun. the only character that is mine is Bohdi. :)

Bohdi’s POV  
I always hated my room. The thought struck me not for the first time as I slid my skateboard across the wood floor to land next to my overly large four-poster bed. I didn’t need a bed that big; in fact, I preferred the cramped sofa or pull out couch bed at John B’s over my bed at Aunt Mona’s house any day. I always felt suffocated in the giant bed. Like the gray comforter and fluffy pillows would swallow me alive if I made too much movement. If I drew too much attention to the fact that I was invading their space. It was a childish fear, but it was rooted deep inside me, and I couldn’t get it out.

I walked over to my walk-in closet and slipped my ratty old vans off and curled my toes. I had ridden my skateboard al the way over here, and my feet ached like a motherfucker, but it was okay. Soon the pain would fade to the back of my mind, and I would skate back only for it to be rediscovered once I got to John B’s. That’s kind of how pain worked for me. Perhaps it was my supposed ADHD, but I never seemed to be able to focus on it for too long.

“You’re home.” The cold feminine voice makes me stand up straight, and I feel myself automatically fixing my posture. It’s my aunt. I was hoping to avoid her, hoping she would’ve been at her office or drinking fancy cocktails with her high society friends, but no, she was in my bedroom. Of course. This stupid bedroom that I hate almost as much as her.

“Yeah.” I called from the closet, not wanting to have to look at her yet, “I’ve been at John B’s.” I tell her this only because I know she already knows. She’s sent one too many cop cars to his address to come and collect me when she felt like it, not to know where I always am. I grabbed some t-shirts from a drawer and angrily stuffed them into an open backpack on the floor. She knows fucking everything it seems sometimes. I can never entirely escape her scrutiny.

“I wish you wouldn’t lounge around with that trash.” Her voice is closer now, and I finally turn around to see her standing in the doorway of my closet. I despise the volt of fear that slithers up my spine when I realize she’s blocking my exit, and I’m stuck in a dead-end.

'You’re not scared of her; you're not scared of her' I repeat the mantra in my head as I make eye contact with her. This thought has been a repeating loop of an attempted comfort since I was old enough to be embarrassed that I got beat up by a girl. It’s funny what societal expectations of boys and men will do to a person.

I spent half of my life being abused and manipulated by my aunt and the other half trying to hide it not because I was trying to protect her, but only because I was so deeply humilated. I remember when I was nine, and Daisy Carter, one of my fourth-grade classmates, punched me in the face for saying I didn’t like her shoes. I was stunned. Even at that age, I was used to getting smacked around a bit and taking it, so I wasn't exactly surprised I'd been hit. I was shocked because school was my safe space, and because of my fourth-grade realization that I was never genuinely safe, I began to cry. I expected my supposed friends to ask if I was okay or get angry with stupid Sally Carter, but instead, they all started laughing. They found it so amusing that I had gotten ‘beat up’ by a girl and teased me mercilessly about it for a whole three weeks.

I distinctly remember I’d never felt real shame regarding being hit by my aunt before. It was just all I knew. I vowed to myself that week I would never tell anyone cause I was a man I was supposed to take it and be fine.

My aunt cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to her. She swirled her glass of scotch around. “Wouldn’t you like to spend some quality time with your dear old aunt?” She asks with a sarcastic bite in her voice. I almost laugh, knowing full well she knows my answer. Furthermore, she hates nothing more than the sight of me, so I know her answer as well. We’ve never had real quality time together. Anytime we’ve spent in each other's presence has been either forced, or door shaking arguments and fights full of pain and hate. I know that’s not what she wants to hear, though, so I plastered a polite smile on my face.

“Maybe when I get back.” Her eyes squint at my response. I know she detects the falsehood in it, and I’m sure she’s determined it backtalk and disrespect.

She keeps her eyes trained on me as I begin stuffing board shorts into the backpack as well. “And where pray tell do you think you’re going?” I grimace and falter slightly, fearing this would come. She usually didn't care where I went as long as I was back to be her favorite accessory to whatever fancy dinner or event she had. But every once in a while, she decided to be petty, and I knew if I wasn't careful, nothing good was going to come from this conversation.

I was tempted to respond with a ‘where the fuck do you think I’m going?’ but I didn’t feel like fighting right now, and I was hoping I could still manage to get away without one. If I could just keep her happy and keep her calm, then maybe there would be no fight today. No reason for me to lie to my friends when I got back, and they asked how it went.

Sure we didn’t keep secrets, but this was different, to me, at least. They and by they I mean Kie, would freak if they knew I sometimes danced around the truth when it came to encounters with my aunts. Like I said, I was ashamed, even though I knew I shouldn't be it was just too much sometimes, just too much to put out into the world. In some way, shape or form, I think my brain had convinced me that if I don’t say it out loud, it’s not quite as real.

I finish packing the bag and keep the undeniably fake smile on my face. “Just to a friend's house,” I speak with a pep in my voice trying to keep her amused, hoping maybe she would move from the entrance of the closet so I wouldn’t have to be shoulder to shoulder with her.

“There’s a hurricane coming,” she quirked an eyebrow at me, “you’re staying here.” My smile faltered, and I know she caught on to it by the smirk that played on her lips. She didn’t care about the hurricane, and she didn’t care about me, she just wanted to make me miserable. I've been long convinced my misery and suffering is her favorite form of amusement.

Realizing there was no chance I would get out of here without a confrontation, I took a deep breath and held my head high as I walked to the entrance. I stopped in front of her and allowed my joyful smile to turn into an annoyed grimace. “I’ll be back in a few days.” I shimmied past her into my awful room.

“Bohdan.” She spoke my full name with little to zero emotion. She was the only one who called me by my actual name, but that was fine with me. It helped to separate my two lives. Bohdan got screamed at and hit, Bohdan was worthless and stupid, but Bohdi? Bohdi had friends, and Bohdi had potential, Bohdi was not afraid. 

"Bohdan." She spoke my name again with more force. She wasn't asking for my attention, she was demanding that I look at her that I give her the respect she doesn't deserve. My fingers began to twitch back and forth as if they were trying to send the message to my feet to run, but I couldn’t. I screamed at myself on the inside and turned around to face her, now a few steps away from her. Before I could register anything, she hurled her glass full of alcohol at me. It was the sturdy and stout kind of glass, so instead of shattering on impact with my cheekbone, it merely bounced off and smashed at my feet. 

“Motherfucker.” I hissed and grabbed my cheek as pain blossomed across the right side of my face—the monster roughly grasped my chin before I could run. 

“Don't you use that language with me.” She spat the words out full of venom and hate. I looked into her eyes and shivered. I think the worst part about my aunt is she doesn’t look evil. She looks just like any other high and uppity middle-aged woman around here with her crow's feet wrinkles around her eye, signifying her huge smile with glistening teeth. Her hair is shiny and dark, and customarily pulled away from her face, and in all honesty, she’s probably attractive to men her age, but if only they knew. No matter her apparent beauty, she’s ugly and horrifying, and I can’t stand to look at her any longer.

“You’re staying here.” She growls the words her southern drawl peeking though. She decides to emphasize her point and roughly shoved my face back and slaps me across the mouth. I taste blood from where her ring has snagged my already chapped lips. 

My eyes study the hardwood floor of my room, and it begins to blur. God, I hate this room, and it’s stupid floors. They’re dark and hard and remind me of my pitiful little seven-year-old self being thrown down on to them shoved and pushed and kicked. I consider the times I've had to gather towels from my bathroom and wipe the blood off the flooring, how easily the dark substance blended with the dark brownish-red boards. I peek a glance up from the ground to see where Mona has gone. She stands a few feet way from me arms crossed, studying me for any hint of defiance waiting for my ‘yes ma’am.’. 

“Do you hear me, you stupid boy?!” She shrieks. Her angry voice triggers my flight or fight, and without a second thought, I bolt. I bang through the tall door to my bedroom and gallop down the stairs. I know she won’t chase me. She stopped doing that when I was eleven, and she discovered my gangly prepubescent legs were faster than her. Instead, she’ll call the police, and I’ll have to hide out somewhere before going to John B’s because that’s the first place they’ll look, but that's fine. I burst through the front door and appreciate the cooling breeze that will hopefully dry the alcohol splashed on my shirt and the tears I let escape. I curse myself for ever letting them fall in the first place. 

'You’re not scared of her; you’re not scared of her, you’re a man you’re brave and strong' I repeat my mantra that I don't think I'll ever believe as the pain in my feet returns to distract myself from the pain in my face and the dark thoughts that accompany it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick disclaimer: bohdi's feelings of shame regarding the abuse he suffers are misguided, and I want to remind you all if you are experiencing something like this, please, please reach out to someone, you deserve so much better.  
> \---  
> Anyways I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave kudos and comments, thank you so much!!


	4. chapter four - the sky doesn’t always clear but at least she has them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, this one's really short but hey we get to hear from someone else narrative! I thought it just fit nicely to have this section from Kiara's point of view and this way we get to see more how she feels about all her boys.   
> \---  
> please read, leave kudos and comment if you'd like. I'd love to hear what you guys all think, feel free to leave any constructive critiques :)  
> \---  
> disclaimer: obviously I do not own the tv show outer banks or any of the characters and this fic is solely for fun. the only character that is mine is Bohdi. :)

Kiara’s POV  
Kiara’s eyes kept nervously flicking over to the road in front of the chateau, from where she lounged on the porch. She’s gone out there under the guise of wanting to play her ukulele without bothering anyone, but she knew she was looking for Bohdi. As a matter of fact, the boys probably knew as well, but they just nodded and let her go out without bothering or pestering her because they knew she was concerned.

The cops had been by a couple of hours ago looking for him, which means his fucking aunt had sent them, which means she’s not happy with him, which always put the gang, especially Kie, on edge. They always joke and call Kiara the mom of the group. Usually, she shoves them and protests the title, but she knows it’s true. Her boys all like to put off the appearance of being carefree. ‘Some more than others she thinks’ and glances through the window behind her at JJ smoking a blunt. However, she knows deep down they care about a lot of things, and those things weigh on them just as things weigh on her. She’s just brave enough to show that worry. 

Kiara takes a deep breath and looks back at her ukulele, plucking out a few small notes. She tries to rationalize in her head. Bohdi’s most likely just fine. I f the police are looking for him, that means he got away and is probably just hiding out somewhere like he usually does. He’ll show up any minute she’s sure of it. There’s no need for her to be sitting out waiting for him like he’s some missing six-year-old. She knows this. But still… there’s this part of her that is so afraid. It’s the same fear she feels when JJ isn’t around. She knows he has his own struggles at home with his alcoholic asshole of a father. She gets worried about John B and Pope too, but it’s different for JJ and Bohdi. It’s like her heart is crying and searching through a storm, and once they’re back with her, the sky doesn’t always clear, but at least she has them. At least they’re safe with her. She hopes they will always feel safe with her. 

The screen door creaks open, and she turns to see JJ emerge onto the porch. He plops down into a deck chair next to Kie and sighs contentedly, probably high as a kite. 

“Where's John B and Pope?” She asks, stealing another glance at the road. 

“Ah, they decided to go surfing.” JJ begins tossing a hacky sack up into the air.

Kie looks up at the dark clouds, “in this weather?” She questions and laughs, “ they’re idiots; it’s gonna start raining any second.” She falters and looked over to JJ. “You didn’t go with?”

“Nah,” JJ sniffs and continues tossing his hacky sack around, “Wasn’t really feeling like it.” Kie smiles to herself and doesn’t say anything. She knows that's a lie.

JJ is obsessed with surfing, he's the best out of the group, and it's his favorite hobby. Kie know JJ isn’t staying because he doesn’t feel like surfing, JJ always feels like surfing. No JJ stayed because he’s worried about Bohdi too. He and Bohdi share a special connection. Kie knows it’s probably because they both can relate to having complete fucking assholes for guardians. Ever since they were eleven years old, if JJ had had a bad day with his Dad, BOhdi was always the first to wrap him up in a hug, and they’d cry. Now that they're older and more masculine or whatever after a bad day for either one, it was more like a ‘hey guys we're going fishing,’ and the gang knew not to follow. They’d disappear for a few hours, and when they came back, the light was back in their eyes, and they were ready for life again. 

“Shit,” Kie whispers as she begins to hear fat raindrops plopping on the roof of the porch. Soon the rain is coming down in torrents. JJ stands up and walks to the top of the stairs trying his best to appear nonchalant as he scans the road. “Where do you think Bohdi is?” Kie speaks up. JJ shrugs, and Kiara notes how he's tugging at his bottom lip, an infamous nervous habit of his.

“I don’t know the dumbass is probably curled up under some dock somewhere. “He jokes.

“Seriously, JJ.” Kiara rolls her eyes and goes to stand next to JJ, “not funny.” But she smiles anyway because she knows JJ copes with humor.

Just as she’s about to suggest they go look for him, the screen door bangs open behind them. Kiara yelps a little, and JJ startles beside her. They both turn around to see a soaked and laughing sixteen-year-old boy.   
Kiara smiles.   
Her boy.   
He’s back, and his face is bruised, but he’s smiling, and despite the storm, Kie feels a peace because her boy is safe.   
She laughs with him and punches his arm for scaring her, and then she grabs his hand and walks through the door. “Come here you dumbass,” She jokes as Bohdi and JJ follow her inside, “let’s eat some cereal.”


	5. chapter five - silly slapstick cartoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, sorry, I know this one's short too, but it just seemed like the right place to cut it off. I've got a longer chapter in the works, so don't worry, we won't be stuck on episode one forever, haha. Anyway, enjoy this little bit of Bohdi and John B dynamic.  
> \---  
> please read, leave kudos and comment if you'd like. I'd love to hear what you guys all think, feel free to leave any constructive critiques :)  
> \---  
> disclaimer: obviously I do not own the tv show outer banks or any of the characters and this fic is solely for fun. the only character that is mine is Bohdi. :)

Bohdi’s pov

I wake up on a makeshift bed of sleeping bags and pillows on John B’s bedroom floor the next morning with a startle and a gasp. The cause of my initial fear is John B himself looming over me, clapping in my face. 

“John B.” I groan and come down from my initial surprise-driven adrenaline rush. I reach out with my arm trying to push his face away, but he backs up before I can reach him in my sleepy daze. “What the fuck, man,” I grumble and stretch out.

“C’mon, we got to go check out the damage from the hurricane outside.” He speaks and reaches a hand down to help me up. I hadn’t seen him at all last night I was exhausted, and he didn’t get back until after I’d conked out. He doesn't say anything now, but I saw the way his eyes darted towards my bruised cheek.

Hoping to avoid the topic, I hopped up quickly. “Man, it didn’t sound good,” I spoke over my shoulder already out of the room in the hallway, hoping if I moved on physically, John B would move on from the bruise on my face. Of course, I knew he knew where it came from, and he knew better most of the time to not mention my injuries, but out of all the gang, he was most likely to. I think it’s the oblivious dumb blond side of him that sometimes doesn’t know the difference between the right moment and the absolute complete wrong moment. I roll my eyes at myself, knowing that pretty harsh. No, it’s not he dumb blonde side. It’s probably the protective side of John B. The same side that picked a fight with an eleventh grader in ninth grade because he had dared to hit on Kiara. 

“Hey, wait, Bo.” John B moved to stand in front of me, “your aunt do that?” I rolled my eyes. Maybe it was a mixture of both those sides.

“Yeah, I mean, you know she’s got good aim.” I spoke, trying to keep levity in my voice, “top in the league of hurling scotch glasses.” I followed my joke with a laugh even though I didn’t find it funny, but if I pretended it was humourous like some silly slapstick cartoon, then maybe I would feel less ashamed. That was my thought process, at least... don’t think it’s working though. 

“Bo,” John B spoke up again, actually grabbing my shoulder to stop me its time, since I’d turned away from him, “you don’t have to pretend with me.” 

Anger took over my thoughts. Who the fuck is he to presume what I have to do because, of course, I have to pretend. ‘I don’t want it to be real, you asshole’ I feel like yelling at him. He doesn't know what it’s like, he had a loving and kind father who sure was absent, but at least he cared. At least he never hit or humiliated him. At least, John B knows what it’s like to feel safe in his home because that’s something I’ve never felt, and John B will never fucking get that. It shouldn't make me angry but jealousy is an unfortunately common trait of mine and John B's relaxed state as he stands in his hallway makes me fucking infuriated. 

“Fuck you,” I mumble, and I keep my anger at bay, not actually wanting to offend him, but I know it doesn’t exactly sound like a joke either. I see that in the way his eyebrows knit together in annoyance and hurt, but he doesn't say anything else. Instead, he moves on to JJ and rouses him from sleep

I feel a little bad as I turn and walk the opposite way out the front door absentmindedly twirling a red friendship bracelet over and over around my wrist. I know he was just trying to help cause that's the type of things he says to JJ, and JJ always responds with a ‘thanks man.’ or a nonchalant shrug and a joke that puts everyone at ease with the situation. JJ is better than me in that aspect, better at accepting help. I mean, he still doesn’t that often, but at least he feels like he can if he wants to. 

I don’t.

I was damaged by my young elementary years filled with my aunt hitting and screaming and Uncle Greer acting sad and disappointed but never moving a finger to help. Damaged by the cops who told me that I should just listen to her when I tried to tell them she hurt me. That she’s in charge and if she slapped me in the face, then I probably deserved it, and I needed to be better for her. No one had ever wanted to help me before, so I really just don’t want it anymore. 

I look up to the sky and watch as the clouds slowly drift across the sky and feel the warm sun on my face. ‘I’m not scared, I’m not scared,’ my mind whispers, ‘I’m just fine.’ it adds.

“Hey, Bohdi!” JJ calls for me from behind the house, and my eyes snap open. “We’re going fishing, Abercrombie!” His quip causes a smile to spread across my face and I'm relieved not to have to force it. 

I should probably apologize to John B, I think, as I jog to the backyard where the boat and the dock is. However, when I reach the guys, John B salutes me in the dorkiest way possible

“Glad you could make it, soldier.” He speaks his freckled face pulled taut and stern even though I can detect he laughter in his eyes. I know he’s apologizing. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I respond with my own salute, and that’s my way of apologizing, and I know he gets it by the twinkle in his eyes, and I hope my eyes reflect that same attitude I hope he knows I got his. Because despite the fact that I am always so reluctant to accept his help, I still need and want his presence as I do with all my friends, and I really, really hope I never fuck up the special friendship we have.


	6. chapter six - The stupid ballcap was simply mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please read, leave kudos and comment if you'd like. I'd love to hear what you guys all think, feel free to leave any constructive critiques :)  
> \---  
> disclaimer: obviously I do not own the tv show outer banks or any of the characters and this fic is solely for fun. the only character that is mine is Bohdi. :)

Hurricane Agatha has officially fucked our little town up as we motor through the canal JJ whistles at the heaps of garbage and debris floating in the surrounding water blown there by Agatha. Up on shore, there are a few trees blown over, some buildings missing shingles or windows. Everyone is up and about trying to clean up their docks and businesses. Most can’t afford to have them shut down for too long. Guilt seeps into me with that thought. The gang always tells me money’s not what makes a kook but surrounded by all this tragedy and destruction when I have a perfectly huge room and a glistening mansion I choose not to visit I can’t help but feel like crap about myself. Sure I have my reasons for not going there, but still, I hate how it might look on the outside to anyone that didn’t know about my reasons. 

“That looks like a smugglers boat. “JJ gestures to a rather suspicious-looking boat drawing me out of my head. I notice my foot is tapping at lightning speed and stand up to stretch out and move around, hoping it drives my thoughts from my head, and I can just have a chill day.

“Sure hope Guffy’s boat didn’t sink. “JJ remarks, “He doesn’t have insurance. “I don’t know who Guffy is, but I nod along with JJ and swing my arms back and forth, trying to distract from the new unwanted swell of guilt. 

It’s sporadic movements like this that caused my fellow peers to call me a spaz and a freak, and any authority in my life to shake their head in disappointment, not understanding why I can’t just listen to them and be still. However, my friends don’t pay it any mind, they know I can’t help it, and they know it helps me, so they learned to ignore my random and irregular movements years ago.

“Hi, Ms. Amy!” John B waves, greeting a woman on the dock with his charming and polite smile, “You guys get through it?”

“Still here.” She laughs and waves back at us, but I catch her falter as her gaze lands on me. I have a bit of a recognizable face considering my aunt is the deputy mayor of the Outer Banks region. She hurriedly returns to her work, and I look away, trying to do anything to make myself less noticeable. 

“She totally looked at me,” JJ smirked, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Yeah, okay, dude.” I don’t really feel like joking around suddenly, and I want to stamp my foot at myself. ‘Get out of your own fuckig head,’ I mentally scream.

“I saw it. “John B attested, “you’re just jealous, Bohd.”

“Ha, whatever.” I hopped to the front of the boat and surveyed the areas some more. “Yikes, look at this place.”

John B and JJ mutter their agreements as we approached Pope’s family’s business dock. Pope stood out there looking bored out of his mind spraying the dock off with a barely working hose.

“Well, look who we have here,” JJ spoke in what I dubbed his cartoon voice. He’d started using it when we were in middle school to cheer any of us up after a bad day; nowadays it just peeked out every once in a while.

“We have a safety meeting.” John B cupped his hand to sound like a microphone, “attendance mandatory.” 

“Let’s go, Pope, my man.” I waved my arms, gesturing towards the boat, “the great marsh awaits our presence.”  
“I can’t.” He groaned, “My pops got me on lockdown.”  
“Aw, c’mon man!” I threw my hands into the air. I mean, I was expecting this type of reaction Pope is after all quite the rule follower, but from experience, I knew it would only take a tad of our peer pressure to get him on the boat and off relaxing with us. He could afford the luxury of disobeying his dad once and again.  
“Your dad’s a pussy, over,” JJ spoke into his hand as well, mimicking a walkie talkie.  
“Oh, I heard that you little bastard.” Pope’s dad Heyward, walked down to join his son on the dock, pointing a broom at JJ.  
“We need your son!” John B called out as if it was an unarguable statement.  
“Yeah and island rules,” JJ shrugged, and we shared a scheming glance.  
“Day after a hurricane is a day off.” I finished crossing my arms.  
“Maybe for you up in figure eight, but we got work to do down here," Heyward answered. I feel myself adjusting my posture to stand up straighter. I didn’t mean it to be offensive, but once again, my idiot mouth had spoken without thinking, and my brain couldn’t quite decipher whether Heyward was actually perturbed by my statement or not. The confusion made my mind go haywire, and I pushed away from the angry remarks that wanted to come out of my mouth.  
“No, no, “JJ joined in placing a hand on my shoulder, “he’s right; we get our orders straight from the pentagon.” He added on for good measure. With the support of my friend, I could feel the tension start to leave again.  
“I-I’ll do it tomorrow,” Pope turned to his dad, and I could see that smile in the corner of his mouth, which means we’d applied just the right amount of pressure, “I promise. Tomorrow.”  
“Atta boy, Pope.” I hollered, ignoring the glare from Heyward.  
“You think- no, no.” The man spoke. “Hell, no. You doin’ it right now.” Pope looked at us a question in his eyes.  
“Get in the boat.” John B stage whispered.  
“Make a run for it, bro.” JJ encouraged. That was all Pope needed, he dropped the hose and darted across the dock jumping into the small boat.  
“Ayy, what a rebel we got here.” I laughed and placed my hands on his shoulders.  
“Bring your ass back up here!” Heyward shouted, but as I said, Pope had that unspoken luxury of the occasional disobedience that could be fixed with sorry’s, and I’ll do it later, which he was shouting to his dad now as the man sent threats of chores.  
“We’ll bring him back in one piece, “John B hollers behind his shoulder, that charm dripping on his tone,” I promise.”  
“I don’t like your friends! “Heyward hollered back.  
“Aw, Heyward, “I clutched at an imaginary dagger in my heart, “I’m hurt.” I turned away from him as he grumbled off and high-fived Pope glad he was with us.  
All my friends had a special place with me and fit in just the right spot. We were like puzzle pieces, when apart we looked like a bunch of nonsense but once put together we complimented each other perfectly. In my eyes, each friend played a separate role in the picture that was us, and Pope was my inspiration and my chill pill. It seems somewhat contradictory, but it was because of his carefulness and his caution that I often felt relaxed. I think it because with pope around I know someones looking out for me. Someone’s going to notice what I’m about to do his extremely stupid, and they’re going to grab me and lecture me about it. As if on cue, he pipes up.  
“You know Bohdi, if you stand so close to the edge, I’m gonna push you off.” He jokes I hadn't even realized I was basically tipping of the boat.  
“Yeah, or me,” JJ commented. I knew JJ actually would, so with a laugh, I stepped back and relaxed in the comfort of my friends.  
My family.

\---

After we picked up Kiara, we headed out to the marsh. Now that I had all the pieces, I was finally feeling relaxed and almost forgot about the cut on my lip and the bruise on my cheek.  
Almost.

Regardless, they had faded to the background, and I was ready to just relax in Kiara’s lovely aura. It’s funny when she’s around how every sense of my awful secret life tends to vanish. Sure the boys have the same effect to an extent, but they also hold reminders. JJ’s bruises, John B’s comfort level in his own house, Pope’s luxury of disobedience with no real consequence, all these things served as small jolts of reality stabbing into my heart.

But then there is Kie. 

Her warmth and sarcasm and the way she says things to me that should be insults but are still filled with love and light is just insane to me. I don’t know how she has this power, but gazing at her in the sunlight, hair streaming behind her as we speed along the marsh it washes over me, and a genuine smile spreads across my face.

“Here Bohdi.” She hands me a cold beer. 

“Aw, what?” I stick my bottom lip out at her and grab the bottle, “no carrot sticks?”

“Aw man, you know what,” she taps her forehead, mocking disbelief, “I totally forgot that you’re an actual five-year-old who likes carrot sticks.” her eyes twinkle as she flips her hair behind her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, well, when I have my perfect vision from all my carrot snacking, then you’ll see.” I joke, taking a swig of my own beer.

“Yeah, and you’ll have some lovely orange skin.” She laughs.

“Hey, let me show you a party trick.” JJ pipes up and steps to stand at the front of our little speed boat, beer bottle in hand, “hey Pope, can you go a little faster?”

“Oh god, here we go,” John B quickly scurries to stand behind Pope, who is currently driving, “I’m moving.”

I groan, knowing precisely the trick JJ is going to try because we’ve all tried it at least a hundred times. JJ is the closest to getting it down, but John B’s next words reflect exactly what I’m thinking.

“Isn’t going to work.” He shakes his head from behind Pope, “We’ve tried this like six thousand times.”

“I got this!” JJ hollers back behind him, “It’s gonna work.”

“JJ, if you get beer on my hat, I’m throwing you overboard! “I threaten jokingly.

“Bohd,” He looks at me with a ‘really?” kinda stare, “you’ve had that hat since we were thirteen.”

“So?” I protectively pull it from my head and clutch the baseball cap to my chest, “It’s still my favorite.” Kiara had gotten it for me for one day. It had been so out of the blue, and although it was a ten-dollar hat from the local general store, It was the most meaningful gift I had ever received. 

Gift’s from my aunt were never for me, they were for her mission to make me look good and in turn, make her look good. They were boats, motorcycles, clothing and golfing lessons, things I personally couldn’t give two shits about. 

But the hat. 

There were no selfish motives in the hat. The stupid ballcap was simply mine.

“It’s gonna work,” JJ yelled and held the beer up to his mouth, trying to aim the liquid right into his mouth, but the wind and speed were too much, and most of it started misting over us in the boat. 

“Oh my god, you’re getting beer in my hair. “Kiara laughed and shied away.

“That’s it JJ I’m coming for you.” I whoop as I stand and make a rush at him meaning to tackle hi mover the edge, but suddenly the boat screeches to a halt. I catch a glimpse of JJ as he flips over the edge into the water, and I slam forward onto the front of the boat barley, avoiding a similar watery fate. My hands start to sting as I push myself up.

“Jesus, Pope!” Kiara’s voice exclaims as I stand up shakily. 

“Yeah, what the fuck, Pope? “I protest probably sounding a little angrier then I mean to. Sometimes it just slips out, and the raw, red skin on the palm of my hands from where I caught myself doesn’t help any to keep it at bay. I don’t like being hurt.

Correction.

I don’t like appearing hurt. 

JJ emerges from the water, coughing, and groaning. “You okay, JJ?” John B questions from where he had tumbled on the floor of the boat.

“I think my heels touched the back of my head. “JJ choked out in a strained voice.

“Kie, you okay?” John B checks on Kiara next. 

“I’m all right.” Kiara groans standing up.

“Bohd, you good?” He turns to me next as he stands up. As I said, he’s got that weird protective mother hen side that doesn’t quite match the stupidly reckless boy who balances on rooftops and TP’s houses in figure-eight in broad daylight.

“Yeah, no, I’m good. “I snap. I don’t know why I suddenly feel so irritable, maybe it’s my hands, or perhaps it’s my uncontrollable jealousy rearing it’s ugly head because John B checked on Kie before I could. It was such a stupid thing to be angry about. I knew that rationally but apparently, my envy did not get the memo.  
Kiara’s hand grabs my shoulder, and I try my best to withhold my regular flinch that comes from being touched unexpectedly. A lovely trait both me and JJ hold, but she only stretches backward, groaning that her back hurts. Her touch starts to scare the jealously away, and I find myself feeling chilling out again.

“Pope, what did you do? “JJ asks from where he still floats in the water. 

“Sandbar, “Pope groans, holding his stomach, and I guess that he must’ve rammed into the steering wheel. Ouch. “The sandbar must’ve changed.”

“No shit,” JJ remarks as he starts swimming back to the boat.

“You okay, Pope? “I ask, taking my turn as the mother hen and following him as he walks to the front of the boat to find the offending sandbar. 

“Dude,” Pope mutters and grabs my arm. I can’t help the flinch this time, but Pope doesn’t seem to notice. “There's a boat down there.”  
“What?” I ask my curiosity, piquing. 

“Guys…” Pope speaks louder, so the rest of the group can hear, “I think there’s a boat down there.”


End file.
